The Questions Harry Never Asked
by Zixi1
Summary: This is my first submission, a story of how relationships might have changed if Harry had asked a couple of simple questions early in his school years.  Reviews are welcome. The world and characters of Harry Potter are the property of J. K. Rowling.


THE QUESTIONS HARRY NEVER ASKED

Harry stared despairingly at the black, tar-like substance clotting in the bottom of his cauldron. He cringed inwardly as a familiar voice aidly said, "Another failing grade then, Potter." Harry looked up at the sneering face of his potions professor and the thought crossed his mind, not for the first time, that Severus Snape seemed to be enjoying his student's discomfort. With a lazy wave of his wand, Snape vanished the mess from the cauldron.

"The rest of you, fill and label your vials and leave them on my desk. Class dismissed!" Turning on his heel, he swept out of the room, his black robes brushing the floor behind him.

"Sorry, mate." The voice of Harry's best friend, Ron, brought him out of his daze. "Your potion wasn't much worse than mine," he said truthfully. "I wonder what he has against you?"

"I don't know, but I'm sick of it and I'm going to find out." Flinging his book and wand into his backpack, he started for the door.

"Harry, where are you…"

Cutting Hermione off mid-sentence, an irate Harry Potter spit out one word as he vanished through the classroom door. "Dumbledore."

His anger carried him from the dungeons to the seventh floor, narrowly missing being tripped up by a vanishing step and managing to avoid being caught by the moving stairway. Pausing before two severe-looking gargoyles, he almost yelled, "Butter Mellow." Immediately the gargoyles swung away to reveal a spiral staircase. Stepping forward, he waited while the stairs swirled him up and up until they deposited him in front of the large door leading to the Headmaster's office. Only then did the immensity of what he planned seem to strike him. For a moment he paused, undecided, then squaring his twelve-year-old shoulders, he knocked firmly.

"Enter."

Harry swung the door open and his head swiveled, looking for the tall, old wizard who normally sat behind his massive desk. He finally spotted him standing in front of a large perch occupied by a seedy-looking phoenix.

"Ah, Harry! Welcome! I've just been encouraging Fawkes. I believe this is a burning day, and he's always somewhat reluctant." Albus Dumbledore chuckled, a deep, pleasant laugh with a hint of sympathy in it. "Not that I blame him, of course. It must be a very trying experience."  
>"Erm…yes, I guess so." Harry remembered the one time he had seen the bird flame up and burn, and hoped he wasn't going to be treated to a second experience of that sort.<p>

Dumbledore signed and moved to his chair, sitting down and steepling his fingers in front of him. "Sit down, my boy, and tell me what I can do for you, since I can do nothing for Fawkes."

Harry sat in one of the comfortable armchairs, which was several sizes too large for him. Now that he was here, he didn't know how to begin the conversation. Finally, he just blurted out what was uppermost in his mind. "Why does Snape hate me?"

"Professor Snape," Dumbledore said gently, a twinkle in his blue eyes.

"Professor Snape," Harry mumbled, as though the words left a bad taste in his mouth.

Dumbledore seemed to understand, for he pushed a box of Honeydukes' chocolate across the desk, taking one himself and motioning for Harry to do the same. Sitting back in his chair, he chewed slowly while thoughtfully studying the face of the boy in front of him. "I rather expected this question last year, Harry."

Harry stopped chewing and surveyed the old wizard with a look of surprise on his face.

Dumbledore nodded. "It has not escaped my attention that you and your potions professor have not been on the best of terms."

"That's an understatement." Realizing his words sounded rather cheeky, the boy blushed and struggled to swallow the candy which seemed to stick in his throat.

Dumbledore smiled, not seeming to mind however. "I'm going to be perfectly honest with you, Harry."

Harry nodded. "Thanks."

"Professor Snape dislikes you because he disliked your father and you are very much like your father."

"W…why did he ha…dislike my father?"

"Oh, several reasons. James and Severus were rivals, rather like you and Mr. Malfoy."

Harry snorted, but Dumbledore ignored it and continued.

"But probably the biggest reason was because he loved your mother."

Harry's mouth dropped open in shock. He didn't know what he'd expected, but certainly not this. "Snape…Professor Snape loved my mother?"

The Headmaster nodded, but sat silently while Harry digested his words. He didn't seem at all surprised when the boy rose to his feet mumbling his thanks, and left the office without further conversation.

Harry moved automatically, barely noticing where his feet were carrying him, until he found himself back in the dungeons facing the door to Snape's office. Before he had time to think about what he was doing, he raised his hand and knocked. He heard steps approaching the door, which was jerked open impatiently and he found himself face to face with the potions master.

"Potter! What do you want?"

"I…I just…"

"Spit it out, boy. I'm extremely busy at the moment."

Harry stared up at the black eyes scowling down at him. His mouth was dry and he couldn't keep the slight tremble out of his voice as he met the angry gaze.

"I just wanted to say, I'm my mother's son, too." Turning away, Harry disappeared down the hall, leaving Snape staring after him in open-mouthed amazement. As the door closed between them, neither could help but wonder if he'd ever again feel quite the same way about the other


End file.
